


To Have a Home

by pythaglorious



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Care, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Foster Care, Group Homes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, am i capable of writing something that is not terribly painful?, no!! the answer is no!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pythaglorious/pseuds/pythaglorious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry Allen was being sent to a group home, and he felt alone. He felt like everyone had abandoned him. He felt like Harrison Wells, his foster father of nearly a year, had finally given up on fixing him. However, in the odd new place that he was sent to, filled with strange rules and even stranger people, Barry might have found the one person in his life who will always stay by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Change

Barry Allen knew how to handle loss. He has dealt with it plenty of times by now. He has learned how to deal with it. How to move on.

 

However, that didn’t stop his eyes from stinging (despite himself) as he was having a one way staring contest with the ceiling of his (could it be called his anymore? he was being kicked out the next day) bedroom, the bedroom that had been his home for nearly a year. He’s lasted longer in this foster house than any of his other ones (there were _plenty_ of other ones.) He had even been naive enough to believe that he’d _maybe_ found his home. He was wrong.

 

Barry felt decidedly hollow, knowing that in twenty four hours, he would be in a new bedroom. Staring at a new ceiling. With new people. People he’d never met before in his life, people who would either look on him with pity or disdain. He felt like he could throw up.

 

Dr. Harrison Wells promised Barry this was his forever home. Barry scoffed. _Forever Homes_ happen in movies that are made to entertain regular kids, kids with real families, not kids whose innocent father was convicted of killing their dead mother. Barry sat up in his bed, unable to sleep. He wanted water. He needed to get some place he could think more clearly. He peeled the covers off of his slender form and sighed as his feet made contact with the floor. He would miss the floor. It was dark wood, elegant, smooth on bare feet, cool but not cold. He took a deep breath and pushed himself off of the mattress.

 

As he made his way down the glass staircase of the Wells Mansion, he heard a TV running in the living room. He quieted his footsteps immediately, but he had already been heard. The noise from the TV ceased and Barry sighed.

 

He did not want to talk to his foster father right now.

 

The closest thing he’d had to a father since his real one got locked up.

 

He was angry.

 

Barry’s feet continued to carry him towards the kitchen, tile cooler on his feet than the comfortable wood of his room. He crossed through the archway leading into the dining area, seeing Harrison Wells, eyes fixated on his foster son, gaze filled with determination and regret.

 

Barry looked down and turned to cross back through the archway, deciding to take the other pathway to the kitchen, through the living room.

 

“Barry.”

 

His feet stopped carrying him away but he didn’t turn around to face the voice.

 

“Look at me.”

 

Barry spun angrily on his heel. “Why,” he demanded.

 

“I can tell you’re hurting.”

 

Barry was close to fuming. He hadn’t been this angry in a long time. He took a deep breath, reminding himself of what all the shrinks told him, _count to ten, find a happy place._ He didn’t want to find his damned happy place, his only happy place after years in the system was being taken away from him.

 

“Of course I’m hurting, _Harrison_ ,” Barry said the name as if it left a sour taste in his mouth (which it did,) “you’re kicking me out!” Barry knew the rehearsed response that was about to be shot his way, so he barely even bothered listening to Wells until he heard the words, “Barry, I love you like a son.”

 

Barry took an accusatory step forward, “No you don’t, Wells. Only one person loves me like a son. My _dad,_ my _real dad,_ who is rotting away in Iron Heights for a crime he didn’t commit!” Barry was nearly screaming at this point, his throat felt raw.

 

Wells stepped forward, putting a comforting arm out which Barry swatted away, “You’re in denial, Barry, and you have been since that night. You need to accept what happened, what truly happened. You need _help_.”

 

Barry could tell that Wells meant what he said, and his eyes stung with unshed tears, vision blurring, “What happened, Harrison? What really happened was I saw a man stab my mother in the _chest,_ with my own eyes, and _no one will believe me._ My mom is dead, Harrison, my mom is dead and the guy who killed her? He’s out there and I will not rest until I find her. My dad didn’t kill her! He could never do that! He–”

 

“Barry…” Wells cut in, voice too calm.

 

“Don’t ‘ _Barry’_ me. Save it. You’re sending me to the group home ‘for my own good.’ Because you don’t trust me. You don’t want to deal with some insane teenager with a murderer for a dad. _Everyone_ has left me, Harrison. You might think you’re helping me, but really? You’re just leaving me too.”

 

Barry turned to walk back upstairs, not bothering to get his water.

 

He didn’t sleep that night.

 

xxx

 

The next morning, Barry packed his few possessions in a duffel bag, out the door by 6:30, barely bothering to give the place that was nearly his home for so long a second glance. He felt apathetic as he rode in the car with Wells to the group home he’d be staying in, Midwestern Center for Boys. He didn’t utter a word the whole car ride, muttering a half hearted goodbye to his foster father before leaving the Harrison Wells in the past.

 

After checking in at the front, Barry slung his bag over one shoulder before being lead  through a living area lined with a circle of ratty looking couches and lounge chairs, a harshly lit dining room, and up a flight of creaky stairs, into with a hallway of closed doors by some staff member who introduced herself as Caitlin Snow. She seemed pleasant enough, and didn’t give Barry any pitiful glances as she explained the schedule and rules he would be expected to follow here, before stopping in front of a closed door with a number 5 nailed on it, knocking.

 

“Come in,” an indifferent voice answered from the other side of the door.

 

Caitlin turned the doorknob and let Barry walk in before her, “Barry, this is Leonard Snart, he’ll be your roommate while you’re here. Len, this is Barry Allen.”

 

‘Len’ rose from where he was lounged in a wooden chair by the window to shake Barry’s hand, “Hello, _Barry,”_ Snart said almost mockingly. He couldn’t bring himself to care as he gave Snart’s hand a firm enough shake and took in his surroundings.

 

There were two twin beds on opposite sides of the small room, about five feet in between them. In front of the window on the far side of the bedroom sat a desk with two chairs. In the right hand corner, Barry noticed a closet with bifold doors. Barry shifted his feet on the cream colored carpet and sat his bag down on the bed, perfectly made with white sheets, assuming Len’s was the one that looked like it had actually been used.

 

Barry’s gaze drifted briefly to his roommate, silently observing. He wore skinny jeans and boots, black long sleeves stretched over his broad shoulders. His features were sharp and soft all at once, his blue eyes icy and witty, his dark hair cropped close to his skull. He looked like a bit of asshole, if Barry was honest. Cute though.

 

“Alright boys,” Caitlin began pleasantly, “play nice, I’m downstairs if you need me.”

 

Barry nodded as Caitlin shut the door behind her. Barry sat on his bed as he felt his roommate’s eyes on him, sizing him up.

 

He knew the questions were coming sooner or later. He was not in the mood.

 

“So, tell me, Barry,” Snart began cooly, “how long have you been in the system?”

 

Barry narrowed his eyes, annoyed, “What’s it to you?”

 

Snart smirked, “Excuse me for being curious.”

 

“I saw your _look_. That wasn’t curiosity, it was calculatory. I’ve met enough new people to know the difference.”

 

Snart scoffed, “So? It’s not like I’m gonna’ judge you, answer the questions, Scarlet. I like to know who I’m sleeping five feet away from.”

 

Barry looked down at his red t-shirt, suddenly self conscious about his outfit choice and sighed, “Six years, since I was eleven.”

 

Len nodded, “Not bad. How many homes?”

 

“More than ten.”

 

“So what’s wrong with you?”

 

It seemed that everything the other boy said was meant to be jagged, sardonic, cold, and biting. Barry knew there was no point in hiding it, and he was too tired to come up with a lie, so he told the truth.

 

“My dad is a convicted murderer and my mother is dead.”

 

The words hung in the air for a moment and Snart raised eyebrows, “He do it?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Kill your mom.”

 

Was this guy really going there? On the _first day?_ Barry took in a deep breath. “No. But the evidence says he did.”

 

“How do you know he’s innocent, then?” Snart challenged.

 

Barry could feel anger boiling up inside him, and his stomach was already twisted into a knot due to the fact that he was talking about his dead mother with someone who was basically a complete stranger. “I am not having this conversation right now, Snart,” Barry snapped

 

He nearly looked offended. The nerve. “Why not, _Allen?”_ Snart mimicked his tone sarcastically.

 

Barry was _so_ not a fan of this guy. “Not in the mood to be called delusional by my roommate.”

 

Snart shrugged, “Fair enough. Not the end of this conversation though.”

 

Barry believed him, that he would have to talk about it later, but was thankful he escaped the conversation, even for a little bit.

 

xxx

 

At 7:30, Barry heard a bell ring throughout the house, evidently signifying the beginning of dinner. Snart and Barry both rose from their beds, Len reviewing the rules with his roommate on the way downstairs (Len told Barry that he didn’t want the others to think he was an idiot because his roommate can’t learn a few rules,) but Barry appreciated it nonetheless. “Food only passes counterclockwise, say please and thank you, don’t be an asshole–oh, also don’t swear, put your plate in the pile in the pile when you’re done. We’ll have dish duty once a week, on Mondays, so in a few days. Ask to be excused when you’re done, don’t be the first to get up even if you're the first to finish, since you're still new. Got it, Allen?” Barry nodded, swallowing down his nerves. It was idiotic to care about what these people thought of him, and Barry knew that. However, that didn’t stop him from caring, or stop his anxiety from flaring up in the pit of his stomach.

 

He pulled out a chair at the long table, seating about 14 people, and sat next to Snart. A short boy with glasses and eyes nearly as blue as Len’s claimed the chair next to Barry. He was vaguely reminiscent of Harry Potter for some reason. “Len,” he leaned in front of Barry, “who’s the pretty one?” Barry felt his cheeks flush and looked down at his (empty) plate. Len rolled his eyes, “This is Barry Allen. Scarlet, say hello to Hartley Rathaway. Barry’s eyebrows shot up in momentary surprise, “ _The_ Hartley Rathaway?” Hartley’s expression hardened, “You’ve heard of my parents, then?” Barry stuttered, heart racing, “I mean– yeah, uh– not that they aren’t assholes and all for disowning you and whatnot, but–” Barry caught himself and took a deep breath. “Sorry I just get really excited about science,” Barry began a moment later. Len smirked beside him, the asshole. Hartley’s expression softened again, “I can respect that.” Hartley turned his attention to the food, as it was being brought out to the table by the woman from earlier, Caitlin Snow, Barry remembered, followed by a middle aged looking man, and a nice looking girl who appeared to be his daughter. As the food was passed around, Barry spooned some mashed potatoes onto his plate and passed the rest onto Len. His roommate eyed him wearily, “You don’t eat much, do you, Red?” Barry shrugged, though he felt discomfort growing in the pit of his stomach, still not quite liking this place. “Never have of an appetite when I’m on edge.” Len nodded, “Fair enough.”

 

Barry waited for Len to finish to ask to excuse himself, avoiding being the first to leave the table as he was told, and they walked side by side back to their room. Barry curled up in his bed and thought of home. He _missed_ home, missed Wells, which was dumb because Barry was so _angry_ with him. He used his pillow to muffle a cry of frustration. He felt Len’s eyes settle on him, “You okay?” His voice was sarcastic and gentle all at once. As far as Barry could tell, his roommate was a walking contradiction.

 

Barry rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling. “Fine.” He knew that was a lie, as did Len. “Really?” his roommate drawled. Why did Len even care if Barry was okay? He was being such a dick just a few hours beforehand. Barry sighed and turned to face him, “I do _not_ want to be here.”

 

Len let out a harsh laugh, which just pissed Barry off more, “Nobody does, Scarlet.”

 

“My foster dad thinks that I’m insane.”

 

Len raised his eyebrows, “Not your foster dad anymore if you’re in here, now is he?”

 

Barry didn’t know why the hell he was opening up to Snart. He was just so… easy to talk to, altohugh insufferable. Maybe it was just that he kepy prying. Maybe it was just that Barry had never had anyone willing to listen.

 

“I guess not…” Barry sighed, remembering the feeling of betrayal that built in the pit of his stomach and behind his eyes when Harrison told Barry that he was to be sent to a group home, “He gave up on me.”

 

Barry’s voice was softer than he would have liked.

 

“They all give up on kids like us, Barry,” Len said bitterly.

 

“I know, I was just… I was starting to think he wouldn’t.”

 

There were a few moments of silence. Not tense silence, just… Peaceful. Understanding.

 

“I’m sorry, Scarlet.”

  
For once that night, Len’s voice was sincere.

 

“I am too.”     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ok so i hope you liked that it was... kinda angsty. this idea popped into my head and i had to write it down omg. updates might be scarce since school started back up & since i'm still working on TMSOFIL (check that out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5552879/chapters/12808058) if you havent yet!
> 
> check out [my tumblr](http://coldflash.co.vu) to keep up with me in between updates! 
> 
> comments & kudos always appreciated, please let me know if you liked it :D


	2. Could Be Worse

The next morning after breakfast, Barry was pulled aside by the man from dinner the night before and into the living space with the odd circle of couches. The man, who introduced himself as Joe West, motioned for Barry to sit on one of the worn down couches, and his lips stretched up into a half smile. Barry caught Len’s glance from the doorway. His roommate just raised his eyebrows and mouthed “good luck.” Barry took a deep breath and Joe began to speak, “I apologize Barry, usually I meet with new residents the day they arrive, however yesterday was just a bit busy. I’m the director here at Midwestern Center for Boys.”

 

It definitely didn’t bother Barry that this talk was delayed by a day. If “Joe” (is he allowed to call him Joe? Or Mr. West? There are so many rules in this place…) was busy, pushing off an awkward talk with his superior did not bother Barry one bit. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. West,” Barry smiled pleasantly.

 

The man’s eyes lit up with a smile, “Call me Joe.”

 

Okay. So he was allowed to call “Joe” Joe. Good to know. Barry wove his hands together, a nervous habit of his, and nodded. He was slightly worried about that this conversation was to hold. Len’s sarcastic “good luck” definitely did not help, despite Joe’s kind disposition.

 

“So I suppose you’ve figured out some of the schedule here at Midwestern Center?” Joe said with a raise of his eyebrows. Barry nodded. So far this conversation wasn’t too bad, hopefully it would just be about logistics and such.

 

“Just to review,” Joe began, pulling out a sheet of paper from his jacket pocket to hand it to Barry, “we are all out of bed and at Breakfast by 7:00 AM, food passes counter-clockwise, and always remember your manners at mealtimes, and everywhere else, of course. On days when you have dish duty, you will perform it after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. On weekends there is Free Time after breakfast and until lunch at 12:30. You may go into the backyard, watch television, or stay in your room during Free. You can put in a weekend outing request a week in advance, and if it is accepted you will be accompanied by a staff member off property. On weekdays you will go to tutoring after breakfast. And you, unlike most of our residents, are in a co-ed gifted program with three other boys here and a few girls from our sister-home, Midwestern Center for Girls.”

 

Barry knitted his eyebrows together, “Oh...  Wells didn’t tell me that.”

 

Joe let out a  _ hm  _ of confusion, “Perhaps we didn’t mention that to him? After looking at your grades, it was a pretty obvious decision. Now, after lunch, there is more Free Time on the weekends, until dinner on Saturday and until Group on Sunday at 6:00. On weekdays, we have group every evening. At 7:30, dinner is served. Lights out at 12:00 on weekends and 10:30 on weeknights.”

 

Barry nodded. Didn’t sound too bad. “Okay, thanks Joe. Anything else?”

 

Joe shook his head and Barry picked up the sheet of paper Joe handed him a few minutes prior– a schedule. Joe arose from his seat on the couch, as did Barry, shooting him an amicable smile which was returned immediately. Barry followed Joe out of the room and went to find Len and Hartley for Free Time, mind swimming with ideas of what to request for his “Weekend Outing” or whatever.

 

xxx

 

The rest of the day passed rather peacefully, however Barry still felt out of place and on edge. Free Time ended all too soon, and the boys were practically herded into the living room for Group. Joe and Caitlin sat on opposite sides of the circle, and everyone else filled in around them. Barry counted nine other boys in the room. Just as he he had during the day, he stuck with Len for Group, along with Hartley and a shorter boy with long hair who he had noticed hanging around with Rathaway earlier in the day.

 

Barry felt some minor anxiety building in his stomach and he wished he could reach out and grab someone’s hand for support. Barry decided that holding Len’s hand didn’t sound too bad, actually. As soon as everyone was settled down, Caitlin interrupted Barry’s internal monologue.

 

“Hey, guys! So if you’re new,” she glanced at Barry. Great, just what he needed. More attention on him. He tried not to let his annoyance show as she continued, “just sit back and listen, you’ll get the hang of it. Any volunteers to begin?”

 

The long haired boy detached his hand from Hartley’s to raise it. Caitlin perked up, “Great, Cisco go ahead.”

 

Cisco. Cool name. He began rather bluntly. “My brother called me today.” Barry didn’t see the problem there, he’d love to have any family member call him. Hell, he’d love to have any family member left who could call him. Which he did not, save his dad. Barry saw Hartley reach out for Cisco’s hand to squeeze it.

 

“Is that good or bad?” Caitlin prompted gently.

 

“Bad. He makes me feel so…  _ inadequate _ . Our parents always loved him so much more than me… they never cared about  _ anything _ I did. I’m just so… jealous of him, and I feel like such a bad person for it. Even after we were taken from our parents,  _ he _ gets to live in the good foster home;  _ he _ gets to have the amazing foster parents, the foster parents who didn’t want to have to deal with a mess like me. I feel like no matter what… the universe favors him over me. I feel like nobody  _ cares _ about me.” Hartley squeezed Cisco’s hand again, this time indignantly. Leaning into the other boy, he heard Cisco mutter, “Sorry, Hart.”

 

Barry was starting to get it. This was just a weird form of group therapy in some house that pretended it could ever be a home. Group homes are anything but homes, and Barry was learning that quickly. They were closer to prisons, if Barry had to compare them to anything. At least he was meeting some cool people along the way, he told himself.

 

“I feel like a bad brother. I love him but… I hate talking to him. He sounds so… Happy. Happy like I wish I was, like I could be if I had a real family. I want a family, but I’m almost seventeen. Nobody wants a fucked up seventeen year old with a criminal record.”

 

Caitlin nodded in something like understanding, “We hear you, Cisco. Did you get out everything you needed to say?”

 

Cisco nodded, and Caitlin moved her gaze onto the next person in the circle, Hartley.

 

“Do you have anything to share with the group, Hart?”

 

Hartley shook his head and leaned it on Cisco’s shoulder. Before Caitlin could so much as ask Len if he wanted to say anything, he broke in with, “You know the drill, Cait.”

 

Caitlin looked pained, as if this wasn’t the first time they’d had this exchange, “Leonard, you  _ have _ to talk to someone eventually… We have group therapy in this home for a reason. You  _ need _ it”

 

Len rolled his eyes, “The only things I  _ have _ to do are the things written in the rules. The only thing I  _ need _ from this place is some freedom.” Len kept his voice cool and indifferent, as always, yet somehow incredibly threatening. Barry made a mental note to never get on the guy’s bad side.

 

Joe began to look agitated, “Manners, Leonard. Caitlin is your superior. She is here to help you. We all are. We care about you, kid.”

 

Barry felt like he was missing some history here.

 

Len glanced at Joe, stare icy, “Yeah, and before she was my superior, she was in this damn system. With me. I just she was my babysitter, that’s all. Won’t happen again, Boss.”

 

Barry looked at Len and got the sense that wasn’t all his roommate wanted to say to the man. Barry pressed closer to Len, hoping that the gesture felt somehow supportive. He knew what it was like to be smothered by adults who didn’t really understand a thing about what you were going through.

 

“Language,” Joe reminded Len firmly, but dropped the subject.

 

Caitlin gently prompted the others around the circle to share, none of the boys (Barry included) volunteering until she got to a guy she called Oliver, who took a deep breath after he was asked to speak.

 

“I’ve been having these… nightmares lately. About my mom,” Barry’s breath hitched in his throat. This time, Len was the one to press closer. Barry was thankful for that. “About the night she died…” Oliver shifted his gaze into his lap, “I miss her. I miss Thea, I haven’t seen her in weeks,” Barry wondered who Thea was as Oliver continued, “she never even calls anymore. I think she blames me for the–for what happened to her. I blame myself too, I think.”

 

Caitlin knitted her eyebrows together, “Oliver, you know it can’t be your fault. You had no way of knowing that it was going to happen––”

 

“But if I had just made her stay home,” Oliver cut in, voice hoarse and gravelly.

 

“No, Oliver,” Caitlin said firmly, “you have to stop blaming yourself for everything bad that happens in your life, okay? You need to tell yourself that it is not your fault, do you understand? You can’t keep holding yourself responsible for every unfortunate event that comes in the way of you or someone you love,” Caitlin paused for a moment. Barry had to hand it to her, she did give out good advice. “Thank you for telling us.”

 

Oliver gave Caitlin a curt nod, and Barry felt his insides twist. He was quickly realizing that every kid in this room knew what it was like to lose someone. Every kid in this room had a past just as fucked up as Barry’s own, and they were going on every day  _ just like he was.  _ Even if he hadn’t ‘shared’ anything in Group today, he found comfort in knowing that he wasn’t struggling alone.

 

xxx

 

The next day, Barry’s first Monday at the Midwestern Center, was Martin Luther King Day, so he thankfully didn’t have to worry about tutoring quite yet. After a (delicious) breakfast of blueberry pancakes, Len lead him back into the kitchen. The boy Barry recognized from Group the night before (Cisco, his mind supplied,) was leaning easily on the counter chatting with Hartley. As Barry walked through the doorway behind Len, the dark haired boy tensed ever so slightly, eyes locking momentarily on his roommate.

 

Barry could see Len smirk at the tension in Cisco’s body, and once again Barry felt as if he was definitely missing history. Had Len and Cisco  _ dated?  _ Cisco didn’t really seem like Len’s type, but regardless, Barry felt jealousy needlessly rise in his stomach. He tried to gain hold over his emotions, telling himself that Len could date whoever he wants. Anyways, Barry didn’t even like the guy. Barely knew him, in the first place. He forced down his minor internal dilemma and focused on the situation at hand.

 

“So…” Barry began, cheeky as always, “dish duty. Where to begin?”

 

Cisco’s eyes lit up at the distraction and for a moment he looked like a kid in a candy store. Except for the fact that, you know, Cisco was nearly an adult, and he was in a dimly lit kitchen that looked like it belonged in the 1950s, and had barely been renovated since, not a candy store. “First Dish Duty, huh?” Cisco grinned crookedly, “don’t worry, it ain’t too bad.”

 

Barry found the corners of his lips being pulled up at the other’s goofy smile, “Okay, Cisco. What do I do?”

 

“Ah, you know my name. Done your research, New Kid. You’re Barry, right,” the other boy clarified, sticking out a hand.

 

Barry nodded and shook it, “Sure thing.”

 

Barry was surprised at the ease of which he got along with Cisco, feeling like old friends in no time. As they scrubbed the plates and silverware clean in the cramped and worn down kitchen, the boys made seemingly pointless smalltalk, but Barry was able to figure out a fair amount about his housemates with it.

 

He noticed how Len reveled in Cisco’s jealousy, the tension whenever he came too close to Hartley. The bastard. Definitely history between Len and Hartley, not Len and Cisco. That did, however confirm that Len was into guys. Not that Barry even cared.

 

Barry also noticed, however, how Len and Cisco’s sense of humor mingled perfectly whenever the latter let his guard down, creating the absolute worst storm of awful puns and dad jokes imaginable.

 

Barry noticed how Len’s muscles were visible through his tight shirt, gaze resting on his arms, down his back… How the hell did Len manage to stay so buff if he was cooped up in this house all the time? Barry felt someone watching him and looked up to see Hartley, raising an eyebrow at his not-so-surreptitious checking out of Len. He tried to hold back the flush that was creeping up his neck, but the damage was done. He grinned innocently at Hartley who nearly let out a snort. He rolled his eyes and averted his stare back to the plate that he was (supposed to be) scrubbing.

 

After roughly an hour of playing clean-up, the four boys were finished with their work and headed up to their respective rooms to enjoy the rest of Free time until lunch. Barry was  _ not _ used to waking up this early on weekends. When he and Len arrived to their room, Barry slipped off his shoes and sat up in his bed, leaning lazily against the wall to face his roommate, curiosity and impulsiveness getting the best of him, “Why wouldn’t you talk in Group last night, Len?”

 

His roommate sighed, visibly agitated by the question, “Are you really going to criticize me for not ‘sharing,’ Allen? Might I remind you that you refused to speak as well?”

 

His tone was sharp and biting, quick to the defense.

 

“I’m not criticizing, Len, I was just curious,” Barry’s voice hardened, his own annoyance growing, “and excuse me for not wanting to open up about my mother’s  _ murder _ in front of eleven people that I’ve barely even met.”

 

“You don’t  _ have _ to open up about that kind of shit at Group, Barry. Queen is just a bit of a… well, he’s a drama queen.”

 

Barry cringed at the joke, impressed with Len’s ability to pun even in the middle of a semi-argument, “Are you sure he’s a diva or were you just looking for an excuse to make a shitty joke?”

 

Len widened his eyes in mock-offense, “Such accusations, Mr. Allen.”

 

Barry felt the corners of his lips tug up in a smile, “I would not hold it above you, Snart.”

 

Len smiled too, and they were both quiet for a moment.

 

“But really, Len. Even if you don’t want to talk about stuff at Group… Caitlin was right. You do need to talk to someone. I didn’t learn that until… very recently,” Barry added, thinking back to their conversation a few nights before.

 

Len grunted and shifted the way he was sitting on his bed, facing Barry head-on from across the room, “Why are you so dead-set on learning about my tragic backstory?”

 

Barry smirked, repeating Len’s words from their very first conversation, “I like to know who I’m sleeping five feet away from.”

 

Len rolled his eyes, and Barry was relieved to feel the tension in the room melt away.

 

“So, what’s the deal with you and Rathaway?” Not exactly “tragic,” Barry figured it was a safe topic regarding Len’s past, since he and Hartley seemed so at ease around each other, despite their all too evident past.

 

Len’s  brows furrowed, “What do you mean, Allen?”

 

Barry rolled his eyes, “There’s, like, obviously some history there, Snart.” Len leaned back onto his elbows, smirking, “I have no idea what you mean.” 

 

Barry (unsuccessfully) resisted the urge to throw a pillow at his roommate. He heard a muffled grunt, and the pillow was being thrown back his way, “We dated for like, two weeks a year ago. That’s literally it.”

 

Barry shrugged impishly, ignoring the envy building in his gut, “Well Cisco certainly doesn’t seem to think that’s ‘literally it,’” Barry smirking this time.

 

Len rolled his eyes, “You’re the one Hart called pretty, Scarlet. So I don’t know why Cisco would be jealous of me, hm?”

 

Barry fought off a blush, playfully sticking his tongue out at Len.

  
Maybe this place wasn’t  _ quite _ as bad as he thought after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked the update!
> 
> so, for anyone who thinks cisco and hartley are totally ooc with the fact that they're dating:
> 
> the reason they got off on the wrong foot (ok thats an understatement) was basically due to cisco's casual genius and hartley's jealousy over wells.
> 
> if you place them meeting in a totally different environment, no reason to not be casual, no wells to get jealous over, it seems more likely that they would bond over being the only two science nerds in the group home, perhaps having a playful rivalry at first, quickly developing into a closer friendship and then into something a little more gay ;^)
> 
> i just felt the need to defend that choice, in case anyone found it questionable.
> 
> check out [my tumblr](http://coldflash.co.vu) to keep up with me in between updates! 
> 
> otherwise, if you enjoyed be sure to leave comments and kudos! :D


	3. Wondering and Wandering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> speacial shoutout to the wonderful [jane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kariosoftime/pseuds/kariosoftime) for proofing this chapter + listening to me ramble about this fic (and [TMSOFIL](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5552879/chapters/12808058)) when she doesn't even ship coldflash. real mvp. love u bro.

Soon enough, the gifted students from Midwestern Center for Boys were loaded up in a van (which was driven by Ronnie Raymond, a staff member of the Boy’s Center during the week,) and on their way to the Support & Services Center for tutoring. Barry was sandwiched in between Len and Cisco, ignoring how he was pressed up against the former’s side just  _ slightly _ closer than was necessary. His excitement (and the feeling of his roommate beside him) were tuning him out of whatever the other three boys were talking about. He knew it was painfully nerdy to be excited about this, but Barry had always liked school, (which had gotten his ass kicked more times than not,) and he had never had a chance like this to learn in an environment where the other kids wanted to learn too. Or where the teacher wasn’t a total jerk. Barry really hoped that their teacher wasn’t a total jerk.

 

Barry followed close behind Len through the automatic doors of the Support & Services Center. Resisting the urge to go through the revolving one was much more difficult than Barry would like to admit. His self control wasn’t exactly his most redeeming feature. Barry walked behind Len through lobby, which was too harshly lit to feel welcoming, until Ronnie led the group to a stop at the elevator, pressing the button with the arrow pointing upward.

 

Barry tapped his foot on the generic-looking white tile (adorned with grey specks) until he heard the telltale ding, his group filing into the elevator. Once inside, Ronnie pressed a button on the wall of the elevator (this time one with the number  _ three _ printed on it,) and once again, Barry began to tap his foot (this time on generic-looking dark blue carpet.)

 

After a few seconds, the elevator chimed once more. The doors slid open, revealing a short hallway with rooms (that seemed to be offices) on either side. The group followed Ronnie until he turned into the third room on the right. Once Barry stepped over the threshold, he took a seat at the long rectangular table in the middle beside Len and Hartley. He took in his surroundings, noticing how the wall at the front of the room wasn’t so much a wall as it was a window, overlooking downtown Central City, across the street from one of the precincts. The room (office? class?) was warmly lit by a few lamps instead of the overhead light. A portable white board stood in front of the table where Barry was seated with with his friends. Hearing a few more sets of footsteps, he was drawn from his thoughts.

 

Barry watched as a group of four girls around his age entered the room, escorted by a dark haired woman who turned and left after they were in the door under Ronnie’s supervision.

 

A girl with short curly hair and warm taupe skin sat down across from him, smiling, “You’re new?”

 

Barry nodded and smiled back at her, “Yeah, I’m Barry.”

 

“Shawna,” she replied, “good to meet you.”

 

Another girl with dark hair (this one with fair skin and dark red lipstick) pulled out the chair next to Shawna, flashing Barry a smile, as well. After a few minutes of chattering, a stout man with white hair stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

 

“Hello, Class,” he began, voice maintaining a healthy balance between formal and friendly, “I hope you enjoyed you long weekend?”

 

His students muttered differing variations of “yes” as he sat his briefcase on the long table. He took a seat at the head of it before he continued, “Now, before we begin, we are joined by a new classmate,” the man gestured at Barry, who resisted the urge to sink lower in his seat, “Why don’t we take a moment to go around the circle and say our names. Barry, you may start.”

 

Okay, Barry didn’t mind starting since he’s new kid they were doing this for, but the guy  _ just _ said his name? He shook the thoughts out of his head and looked around at his classmates, “I’m Barry.”  After Len, Cisco, Hartley, and Shawna pointlessly introduced themselves, Barry caught the names Felicity, Thea, and Laurel from the other three girls at the table. They all seemed nice enough, the one with the black hair and red lipstick (Felicity, Barry’s mind supplied) was undoubtedly adorable. and surprisingly friendly, despite her… slightly darker style. Dark as in she was wearing nothing besides black. As the older man introduced himself as Dr. Martin Stein, he turned his back to the class and instructed them to take out their notebooks.

 

xxx

 

The rest of the day went by smoothly, nothing particularly interesting happened at Group, Barry declining to “share” once more, Caitlin looking disappointed. Come dinner, Barry took his usual seat beside Len, blushing as he noticed how their arms brushed as he sat down. Before Hartley took his place next to Barry, however, the girl he spotted the other night at dinner pulled out the chair next to him asking, “Is it cool if I sit here?” Barry nodded, but Len just narrowed his eyes.

 

“I’m Iris, Joe’s daughter,” she told him after the food had been passed around.

 

“Oh, cool. I’m Barry,” he replied before taking a bite.

 

Iris nodded, “Yeah, new, right? Dad’s talked about you a lot this week.”

 

Len raised his eyebrows, and Barry let out a confused  _ hm.  _ Why would Joe be talking about him?

 

Iris must have picked up on his confusion, since she smiled at Barry and explained, “He’s just taken a liking to you, is all. He gets excited whenever someone new comes around

 

“Oh, okay,” Barry smiled, continuing his dinner. Iris seemed sweet. He was glad Joe liked him. He was a little stubborn, sure, but still a really good guy. Better than any of the families Barry had lived with, anyways.

 

A few moments passed before Barry continued the conversation saying, “So what do you do here? I mean, I just noticed you haven’t been here since my first dinner. Do you only word sometimes, or––”

 

“I volunteer here a few times a week, whenever I have time. Dad likes having me around and I get community service hours for school.”

 

“Oh, nice. It’s cool of you to hang out around here, it can’t be much fun,” Barry smiled apologetically

 

“Hey!” Cisco protested  from the other side of Len, “We are  _ so  _ fun.”

 

Barry laughed, “Yeah, that’s why there are so many girls lined up outside the door.”

 

“ _ I  _ don’t need any girls,” Len smirked.

 

Barry resisted the smile tugging at his lips.

 

What is it with that boy and his _ stupid smirk  _ that made Barry’s stomach tie in knots and his chest tighten and his cheeks heat up because  _ ohmygod _ it was so _ – _

 

“Earth to Barry?” Iris interrupted his internal breakdown with a smile and a hand on his shoulder as he was snapped back to reality.

 

“Yeah? Yeah–Sorry,” Barry chuckled nervously and Len’s smirk just  _ grew.  _ That boy was  _ not _ helping ease Barry’s internal monologue.

 

Before he could make it upstairs after dinner, Caitlin pulled Barry aside. She had that wounded puppy look in her eyes. Barry just  _ knew  _ she was going to get whatever she came here for.

 

“Barry,” she began gently.

 

“What’s up?” he replied, mind racing with possibilities of what she wanted. She definitely wanted something.

 

_ Please don’t be about Group, please don’t be about group, please don’t be about group–– _

 

“It’s about group.”

 

She genuinely looked pained for Barry, and he felt his heart melting, “Caitlin, I’m sorry… I–– I just really don’t want to talk in front of all of them… not about the stuff you want me to talk about. That I  _ came _ here to talk about. I need more time, I need to adjust. It hasn’t even been a week yet.”

 

“Barry, I know this transition period is hard, but that’s exactly why your first few weeks here are when you need to talk about these things the most. If you don’t start opening up in Group now, you won’t later. I had these exact conversations with Len when he got to this group home. Hell, I had these exact conversations with him when we were in a group home  _ together _ . He never listened. Barry, that is why I  _ need _ you to open up in group. If you don’t, I’m going to have to request individual therapy sessions.”

 

Len was in a group home with Caitlin? Well, there’s some history he had definitely been missing.

 

Barry really did wish Len would open up to someone.

 

“Cait, I––”

 

_ “Mandatory _ individual therapy sessions,” her eyes were suddenly steely.

 

_ Dammit. _

 

“Fine–– fine! I’ll talk in group tomorrow. Happy?”

 

Caitlin suddenly perked up significantly, “Really, Barry? Oh, good! It  _ will _ help to get these things out, Barry, I promise. And it’s my  _ job  _ to make sure you’re okay. And my duty. As a friend.”

 

_ As a friend. _

 

Barry nodded, only slightly dreading group the next day.

 

“Yeah, Caitlin. Of course. I get it. Thank you–– can I go to up my room, now?”

 

Caitlin nodded,looking relieved, and turned to walk back towards the kitchen.

 

Before making it back to his room, Barry realized what a long day it had been and that he really could use a refresher.

 

He made his way back down the hall and into the bathroom, lined with three shower stalls, toilet stalls, and a few sinks on the back wall. He grabbed his shower caddy from the shelves to the right of the door and pulled open a white shower curtain, placing it on the ledge inside the stall.

 

The tile was cool against his feet as Barry turned the knob to let warm water wet his hair, running down his back. He let his eyelids get heavy. As soon as his eyes were closed, he remembered Len from this morning. Shirtless Len from this morning. Len brushing against him in the van. Len brushing against him at dinner. Len and his short hair and his damned blue eyes and––

 

_ Fuck. _

 

He felt warmth grow in the pit of his stomach. There was no avoiding this. He pressed his back against the wall of the shower and let his hands (and his mind) wander.

 

When Barry got back to the room, hair dripping wet, lower half wrapped in a plain looking towel, he could, most certainly,  _ not _ look Leonard Snart in the eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so i hope u liked it!! im eternally giggling at that last part. things will start to speed up soon! i have this fic outlined up until chapter 13ish rn, i expect it to go on until at least chapter 15, maybe further, we'll see. also, i'll probably squeeze one more update in before the end of the week! (even tho i have an ap euro test on friday wish me luck pls)
> 
> here's [my tumblr](http://coldflash.co.vu) to keep up with me between updates!
> 
> otherwise, if you enjoyed feel free to leave comments & kudos!! every single comment i get on here makes me legit squeal ok no joke <3


	4. Coming Home

The next week or so passed, Barry getting used to his new surroundings, his new friendships. He was starting to form a routine, something he always feared getting too used to. Because routines tended to be broken by unwanted intrusions.This time, that unwanted intrusion was a man named Harrison Wells.

 

“Barry,” Caitlin knocked softly on the door of the room he shared with Len, “someone is here to see you.”

 

Barry perked up from his place at the desk, working on Chemistry homework. Who would be here to see  _ him?  _  “What do you mean?”

 

Len raised an eyebrow at him, “Sounds like you’ve got company, Red.” Barry felt comfort in hearing Len’s increasingly familiar sarcasm, though, it couldn’t be—

 

“Who is it?” he asked.

 

“You’d better just come down here, Barry,” Caitlin told him gently.

 

Barry nervously rose from the desk, closing his Chem notebook and dropping it onto his bed, giving Len a pleading look (which was returned with a look that seemed to say something along the lines of  _ What-the-hell-do-you-want-me-to-do-Scarlet, good-luck. _ ) The walk down the single flight of stairs felt eternal. Barry was grateful for that. He followed Caitlin through the dining room and into the living room, where the last person Barry could possibly want to see, was sitting.

 

“Hello, Barry.”

 

Harrison Wells was seated on the gray couch that was pushed against the back wall of the room, motioning for Barry to sit next to him. He felt heat rise in his face and anger boil in his stomach. He looked to the doorway, wondering if he could run fast enough to get out. For a second he thought he saw a pair of blue-green eyes peering in, but they were gone as soon as Barry noticed them.

 

“I’d rather stand,  _ Harrison _ ,” he replied through gritted teeth.

 

“Barry—” Caitlin began, an arm on his shoulder.

 

“No, Caitlin. I won’t sit next to him. You can’t make me,” Barry faced her, looking anywhere but Harrison. “Why is he here?” Barry asked her. He forced himself to turn his attention back to the man on the couch, “Why are you here?” The pain in Barry’s voice was pitifully evident.

 

Harrison began to rise from where he was seated on the couch, starting towards Barry.

 

“Stay away from me, Wells.”

 

“Barry,” Wells began, his hands held out in front of him, as if to surrender, “I never meant for any of this to hurt you. I did this to help you, Barry.” Barry nearly let out a bitter laugh.

 

“Barry, please just hear him out. You’re required to spend at least five minutes with all visitors. I’m sorry.”

 

“ _ Fine. _ ”

 

The next minutes passed all too slowly. Barry decided that if he pretended not to hear Wells talking, he would eventually stop altogether. His apologies sounded forced.  _ He is just selfish,  _ Barry told himself,  _ don’t buy anything he is telling you. Do not forgive him. _

 

After his time was finally over (which felt more like five hours than five minutes) Caitlin led Barry’s former foster father out of the living room with a pained look in her eyes. He almost felt guilty. Barry knew she just wanted him to be happy. What she didn’t know, however, was that Dr. Harrison Wells could  _ never _ be a part of that happy ending. Not now.

 

A few seconds after Barry heard the front door close behind Wells, rapid footsteps sounded down the hallway, coming towards Barry. A figure rounded the corner into the doorway, coming to a halt in front of Barry.

 

“ _ That asshole was your foster dad?” _

 

Barry found himself looking into the blue-green eyes of Hartley Rathaway. Oh. So that was who he say in the doorway. Barry felt himself become defensive, “Were you  _ spying _ on me, Rathaway?”

 

Hartley took in a sharp breath. “Only because I heard his voice. That  _ damn _ voice.”

 

As Barry’s defensiveness and anger was wearing off, he felt confusion take its place. “You  _ know _ him?” he asked incredulously.

 

“Unfortunately,” Hartley began bitterly, “he evidentially has a habit of dropping off his foster sons here after he gets bored with them—us.”

 

Us.

 

Us?

 

Oh.

 

_ Oh. _

 

Barry found himself repeating the words Hartley had uttered just moments before. _ “That asshole was your foster dad?” _

 

Hartley nodded and sat next to him on the couch, sighing. “Guess he’s more of an ass than I thought. He took me in when my parents kicked me out. Then decided I was too much work. Got in the way of his work or whatever.”

 

Barry thought for a moment about what to say. He felt angry again. Angry with Wells, not for hurting him, but for hurting his friend.

 

“Looks like he gave the whole fatherhood second chance after that,” Barry sighed, “As you can see that didn’t go so well.”

 

Hartley chuckled sarcastically, “Yeah.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Hartley let out a breath. 

 

“I’m sorry, Hart.”

 

“It’s okay, Barry.”

 

Barry sighed.

 

At least, now, he had someone who understood his past. Part of his past, at least.

 

xxx

 

Later that day, a few of the boys got permission to go bowling, accompanied by Ronnie and Caitlin. Barry rode in the van, squished between Len and Cisco, listening to them prattle on and on about absolute zero. It probably would have interested him much more if he had not just recieved an unannounced visit by someone he wasn’t even  _ close  _ to being ready to see again.

 

Wells completely and utterly betrayed Barry. Just like he’d done to Hartley. He had earned Barry’s trust, earned Barry’s  _ love,  _ had nearly driven Barry to start calling him  _ “dad.” _ But he wasn’t Barry’s dad. He could never be Barry’s dad. He was just a man. A man who hurt him. A man who hurt his friend. A man who believed Barry’s father was guilty.

 

When the van came to a halt in the parking lot of a rundown bowling alley and the mindless chatter ceased, Barry put those thoughts from his mind and focused on Len next to him, unbuckling his seatbelt, his breathing, his arm brushing against Barry’s own. It was a good distraction.

 

Hartley, Cisco, Barry, and Len stepped out of the van, following behind Oliver and his roommate Roy Harper. The bowling alley’s neon sign glowed in the violet sky of the setting sun. Once inside, Ronnie and Caitlin sent the boys to their lane while they picked up all the shoes. After a few minutes, Barry saw Ronnie and Caitlin making their way towards them. They looked a bit ridiculous with their arms full of bowling shoes.

 

Sitting next to Len in the plastic seats of the bowling alley, he could nearly forget the day’s earlier events. After the rest of his team had gone once, Barry rose to take his turn. He chose a ball of his size and lifted it from its place on the machine that returns them. He struck down most of the pins with his first shot, knocking down all but one with his second. He felt pride swell within him, his anxiety and anger leftover from earlier subsiding, replaced with a sudden streak of competition.

 

The game passed all too quickly, Barry learning that Len was a  _ very _ proficient bowler, and at some point (neither were sure when) they began to hold hands. They continued holding hands in the van heading back to the group home. Barry felt a smile tug at his lips at Len’s hand in his and their team’s victory. Squished between Cisco and Len once again, he smiled and laughed. Len’s hands were cold, he noticed. Just like his eyes. But his presence was so  _ warm  _ with Barry. When it was cold to everybody else. Even when he teased Barry, even when he called him stupid names. He had a gentleness about him that he shared with no one else.

 

xxx

 

As the height of their victory passed, Barry felt the tugging in his stomach return, the feeling of falling. Not the good one. Laying on his back, he practically bore holes in the ceiling of the room he shared with Len.

 

Barry heard himself sigh.

 

“What is it, Scarlet?”

 

Barry turned on his side to face Len. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled. He knew he sounded like a pouting child, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“Yes you do,” Len stated simply.

  
He was right.

 

“My old foster dad came to see me today.”

 

“I’ve gathered that much,” Len replied.

 

Barry took a deep breath.

 

“It made me think about my real one. My real dad. I haven’t seen him in so long. I miss him, Len. I never got to see him when I was with Wells, save for when I snuck out. It was like that most places I lived. I’m so  _ awful _ , Len.”

 

Barry paused. Len was silent.

 

“I suppose it’s the same here? You think they’d let me see him?”

 

Leonard thought for a moment.

 

“I doubt it, Barry. You’re not awful.”

 

Barry knew that would be his answer. Nobody wants a fucked up teenager to go see the man convicted of murdering his mother (who just so happened to be his father.)

 

“He didn’t kill her.”

 

Barry’s voice was so hushed he could barely hear it.

 

_ He didn’t kill her. _

 

“I know,” Len told him.

 

“You believe me?”

 

“Of course I do, Barry.”

 

“Nobody ever believes me. Not about that at least. They think I’m crazy.”

 

Barry turned away from Len to face the wall.

 

After a few moments, he felt the other side of his mattress sink in with weight. Then he felt an arm slip around his waist.

 

“You aren’t crazy, Barry Allen.”

 

Barry could feel Len’s voice on his neck. They were so close, Len pressed against his back, arm around him. Comforting him. Being  _ there _ for him. It made Barry feel warm inside. He turned to face his roommate and his eyes conveyed a silent thank you. Their gazes met, blue eyes staring into Barry’s green ones. He felt his heart race. Everything seemed to speed up and slow down all at once. Len’s gaze moved from his eyes to look down at Barry’s lips. Barry nodded so small that he was sure if Len wasn’t so close to him it would have gone unnoticed. Len leaned down. He felt lips hovering just a hair away from his, hesitant. He leaned forward to meet them. Len’s lips moved against his easily, naturally. It felt so  _ right _ . The kiss was soft and sweet and patient. It was everything Barry needed. Barry’s hands found Len’s hair, and Len’s arms wrapped around Barry’s waist, pulling him closer. Len’s lips wandered down to Barry’s jawline, kissing softly, then down his neck and under his collar, biting not so softly. Just enough to leave a bruise in the morning. Barry’s grip in Len’s hair guided his face back up to Barry’s lips and they kissed again. This time it was more passionate, more hungry. Barry’s mouth opened against Len’s, welcoming his tongue like he’d been missing it all his life.

 

They pulled away for breath. They could have been kissing for seconds or for years, Barry didn’t know. He didn’t care. He felt himself smile. He looked at Len’s lips, red and swollen from kissing for God knows how long. For the first time, he saw Len smile too. Truly smile. A smile that spread to his eyes, across his features. He pulled Barry closer, burying his nose in the other’s neck. Barry kissed the top of his head.

  
He could have stayed like that for hours. For the first time in a long time, Barry felt like he was  _ home.  _ It was absolutely terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i'm so sorry i took so long to update, school is keeping me busy smh  
> hopefully that chapter made up for it a little bit tho (''':  
> thank you for all your support!! leave kudos if you liked it & tell me what you thought in the comments!! <333


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